Welcome To The Bordello
by LaughingPenguins
Summary: Ezio is taken to his first brothel at a young age, and when he learns his new friend Leonardo da Vinci is troubled, he thinks he knows the perfect treat, but little does he know the secrets his new friend is about to reveal...
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: All characters are owned by Ubisoft and no infringement of copyright is intended. They own the characters, we can't afford to be sued: we apologise deeply to Ubisoft for playing with their golf clubs when they weren't looking...

This is going to be a multiple-chapter affair so hang on in there, Leo is coming soon: he is just fashionably late at present.

Remember, men can love each other too, but if this offends you, then try not reading.

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><p>"And now Ezio, for a birthday present you'll never forget; a present just from me. Our little secret..." Federico smiled brightly at his younger brother and reached out a hand to him.<p>

Ezio raised an eyebrow, before moving to the window of his bedroom. "A present? What kind of present?"

"Come, Ezio, I told you it's a secret. And you must come with me now." Federico's voice was commanding and, with an obedient nod, Ezio made a move to the door. A hand came out and seized him once again. "No, brother, tonight we must go by the window."

A frown creased Ezio's young face; it was on rare occasions that his brother insisted that they leave by the window. Normally, it was a technique they employed to evade their parents, especially when Federico knew they would be indulging in an activity their parents thought ill of. At times Federico would wake Ezio and then escort him to the nearest taverna, where they would stay until early the next morning, before returning to their warm beds, everyone in the household remaining none the wiser; in other instances, Federico would take Ezio along the rooftops, urging him to jump further and further each time. Ezio would claim to his mother the marks on his flesh were a result of his clumsiness, and that he had fallen in the night.

With no more persuasion, Ezio pushed his legs over the ledge and out. He knew instinctively where the handholds were and slide with ease down the rest of the wall, Federico but a short distance above his head. Without waiting Ezio strolled from their family courtyard into the street, and paused waiting to turn off to the tavern he and his brother had visited before. However, Federico, seeming to ignore his younger's brother presence, started off in another direction; Ezio knew where the street led but was not sure what would interest them there. "Where are we going?"

"Stop being so impatient, Ezio," scolded his brother. "You must learn to be patient...and not always race to the end..."

"I do not understand, Federico. Are we going to a different tarverna?"

"It is not important, and you will understand my meaning someday."

They rounded the corner, people's voices and music growing louder as unbeknownst to Ezio they neared their destination.

Federico stopped suddenly in the street. Ezio continued walking and crashed into his brother's back.

"Patience Ezio!... We're here,"

"Here?" Ezio asked puzzled, looking around himself at the plain street in which they now stood, with its undistinguished buildings, "And where is here Federico? Are we not going drinking?"

"We can drink here Ezio, and so much more. This is your birthday present from me, a night you will never forget, and you must remember this night. Look around you Ezio," his brother commanded, "Remember streets like this Ezio. We are in the backstreets of our fair city. The buildings are non-descript, but behind their doors they keep secrets that their appearances could never suggest they disguise. But look." Federico pointed to the closed windows and shutters of the building closet to them. It was the building from which the noise now whispered, flowing out into the close night air. "Notice the red ribbons hanging from the balconies Ezio, remember that. It will be a sign you will welcome in the future. Now, come, your birthday present awaits you. Welcome to the bordello..."

Federico approached the door, his hand falling to the handle, while Ezio stood, his curiosity inflamed, but his feet stayed firmly fixed where they were, a faint murmur of fear trickling through his body. His brother gave a glance back, and Ezio's pride forced him on. He followed his brother through the door, and found himself in a new, adult world.

The room was sparsely furnished, but what furniture there was, was draped in exotic throws and scarves. Women languished on couches and across tables, some talking with men, others chatting together. Some sat in the laps of older gentlemen, and up the curving staircase in the corner of the room Ezio saw a maze of doors and rooms, girls running between them, some with men who pushed them against walls and fell with them into what Ezio could only assume to be awaiting bedrooms. Federico was greeted like an old friend by a handful of girls, and Ezio felt himself left at the door, ignored and unappreciated. He felt nervous, uncomfortable and hugely out of place. After much kissing and hugging Federico turned to his younger brother and pointed. Ezio blushed as the girls who had previously clung to his brother now descended on him. Only one girl remained with Federico, and this girl his brother wrapped his arm around and kissed deeply. Hands fell around Ezio's body, and he felt small fingers tracing the shapes and lines of his torso; one finger played at the laces of his shirt, while another, possibly belonging to another woman, fiddled with those of his breeches. Kisses were pressed against his exposed flesh, and in the background he could hear the faint laughter of his brother. His hands reached out and found soft, supple flesh; but still he feared the women, who clung to him, as if their lives did depend upon it. Whichever girl he held - their faces swam indiscriminately in front of his eyes - he now pulled closer and gently kissed, taking care not to meet her lips. At this one of the girl's cooed delighting in Ezio's gentleness and innocence; he felt his cheeks redden. His confidence, his pride slipped away and Ezio with some force pulled away from the girls and reached his brother. Then, like a child again, he pulled at Federico's sleeve...

Federico turned gradually, pulling away from the girl who was now pressed to his chest. "What?" The tone was impatient, harsh, and Ezio could feel the embarrassment rising within him.

"Federico, I am not sure." Ezio's voice faltered with apprehension.

A smirk came upon his brother's lips. "Not good enough Ezio? You surprise me...one so young." Federico turned back to the girl and, bending his head down, whispered into her ear. Her dark eyes lifted to meet Federico's, and a small piece of understanding passed between them. Without a word the girl strolled away, and ascended the stairs. "Do not worry, Ezio." The tension in the young man's frame did not ease. "A drink?" No understandable response came, but still Federico made a motion to yet another girl who lounged on a table. A slow smile spread across her face, and moments later she returned with two glasses filled to the brim with a deep, red wine.

"I am Caterina," the girl said, passing one of the glasses to the young Ezio. "I know who you are, and don't worry, you don't need to stand on ceremony here. Sit and drink with me,"

Ezio, still nervous, sat beside the girl who could not have been much older than he was himself. Together they shared the glasses of wine and talked. More glasses were given to them without Ezio noticing and still they continued to drink and talk. Finally, when Ezio raised his eyes from his once again filled glass, he realised to his dismay that Federico was absent from the room. He started from the table, but the girl caught his arm and pulled him towards her. She pressed her lips to his. Ezio flinched, but the kiss was not unpleasant. The girls' lips were warm, and he tasted the wine on her breath. She laughed into his parted lips and he caught her waist.

"Now now young master," the girl laughed pushing Ezio from her...

"Oh, oh I'm sorry..."

"No no no; I just mean not here, come with me," and without waiting for a response the girl took Ezio's trembling hand in hers and led him up the stairs. The volume increased as they reached the top of the flight; aside from the music moans were discernable, and in some rooms these moans were louder than Ezio could believe necessary. He followed the young girl to her room, and there she closed the door behind him and pushed him onto the bed.

The room was dimly lit by candlelight, but the hanging stench of sweat and semen cloaked the air. Ezio longed for more wine. In his young head he could hardly imagine what lay before him, but he knew on some level that he did not want it. He was scared yes, and he was young, but he was not truly innocent, and the girl before him was lovely. Her face soft and young, white and sweet; with rosy lips and wanton curls. Slowly the girl began to remove her dress.

"No, please!"

"Shush..." the girl muttered, moving close to him and pressing a finger to Ezio's lips. "It is okay, Federico has settled the bill already..." she continued to remove her clothing.

'The bill' resounded in Ezio's mind. He had enjoyed their conversation, and had enjoyed the sound of the young woman laughing at his jokes, but now the illusion had been shattered. She had been acting, waiting for this moment so she could earn her money. The stories he had told, and those she had reciprocated... well, she had not cared... she had drank and talked, but she would have talked of anything so long as it would lead to this point. Ezio was angry now. He saw the woman for what she was. Beautiful, yes, and sweet, and lovely and charming and delicate and entertaining... and waiting for her money... Ezio did not want to see anymore. Her breasts were exposed to him; soft and white and pert, but he was annoyed by the pretence. This was what she had been waiting for all night, and despite his own anxieties, all she truly cared about despite her polite talk was her fee. Ezio raised himself from the bed.

"Ah, a man who wants to take charge! You are indeed a brother of Federico's!"

Ezio felt the same hurt again, this time moving to the pit of his stomach. His brother had been here before him.

"No, I should go, but thank you," He saw the sadness in her face, but he knew his response. "You'll get your money, don't worry,"

The girl didn't acknowledge him with anything more than a relieved smile, and Ezio, feeling justified, walked out of the room. He paced out into the corridor again, not knowing where he was going, but glad to have preserved something of himself, for a higher purpose one day, as he so hoped. He walked past the many closed doors, until he found one slightly ajar. Thinking he had found himself a quiet spot in which to stop and collect his thoughts, he pushed the door further open, but the sight which met his eyes caught his breath in his throat.

In the middle of the room, atop a bed writhed two naked bodies. The noises they elicited were reaching a crescendo and Ezio despite his best efforts found himself unable to move away from the doorframe. A man, tall and strong, lay on top of another naked body, pounding with increasing rapidity, as the hands of the figure beneath him clutched at his thighs, pulling him closer with each thrust. As the speed of the two figures increased yet again, now reaching a frenzied pace, the figure below the man rolled their head backwards, and the last of the stroking beams of moonlight that entered through the shutters cast its touch across the two lovers. Ezio could see the two faces clearly now; the man thrusting had a handsome, angular, if slightly aged face. As Ezio allowed his eyes to follow the man's body down, they fell upon the figure below: the face was youthful, but it was also unmistakably that of another man. His eyes were closed and both remained unaware of Ezio's presence, and despite now knowing he really should leave, still his eyes remained focused on the sight before him. He was intrigued by this sight before him, in no small part because although he assumed one of the men was being paid for his services, there seemed no lacking desire on the part of either in the bed. Ezio was aware of such practices of course; there was quite a reputation for their prevalence in Florence, but he had never known it as anything more than a base joke.

Just as he was about to attain a much fuller understanding, he was yanked undiplomatically and ungracefully from the door. He was spun against the hallway wall and found himself staring into the eyes of Federico. They stared back at Ezio's, hot and dark, anger dancing like fire in them. "Ezio," he hissed. "What are you doing? Where is Caterina?"

All words lost to him, Ezio merely stared blankly back at his brother, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. The feeling deep within him had not settled and he could feel a burning heat just below his stomach; he dared not look down, knowing what he would see there.

His brother's eyes, however, had noticed the bulge, and taking hold of Ezio's shirt, his fingertips catching the skin underneath and pinching it, he dragged him back down the corridor, where the darkness and the silence loomed. Federico released with a harsh shove, sending Ezio to the wall; the cold stone caught Ezio's jaw, and he could feel his eyes water as the skin ripped and his warm blood spilled down. One hand clutching his face, Ezio brought the other, which had formed a tight fist, around in a hard arch, and made the briefest of contact with his brother, before his own force propelled him to the ground. His brother's hands again dragged him up and this time held him to the wall. "Ezio." Federico's voice seemed calmer now but the rage in Ezio was untameable and the younger struggled violently. A slap came down where Ezio had been newly cut. "Calm now. Ezio, do you not understand? What those men were doing was a sin! You hear me? A sin...it is unnatural...unacceptable..." Federico's voice trailed off and his eyes came to met those of _his_ younger brother. Removing the hand that held Ezio in place, Federico let out a long sigh and paced further down the corridor. Ezio remained by the wall, his spine still contoured to the grooves of the stone. "No one would understand, Ezio. We – you are from a good family..." The voice weakened and faltered.

"I wasn't doing anything, I wasn't even looking," Ezio said angrily, his voice straining. He sounded young.

"Yes you were; I don't need to know why, I don't want to,"

"You're wrong. It's your fault anyway, why did you bring me here, when all these girls want is our money. What would our family say if they knew we were here?"

"... Nothing as bad as what they would say if I told them... what happened to you tonight," Federico passed both hands through his hair and looked at his brother. "Perhaps you are right Ezio, perhaps this was my fault and I should never have brought you here." He came back close to Ezio and, with the briefest of hesitations, put his arm around his brother's shoulders. "I don't want to speak of this again, come with me, we will enjoy this evening, we can pay for drinks and conversation as much as we can pay for anything else." Federico started to lead them down the corridor, but then he caught Ezio again and pushed him back against the wall. Ezio tensed to anger once more, but Federico pushed his chest and held him tight in position. "I won't mention this again Ezio, not to anyone else, or even to you. You are young, and things are bound to change for you, but if they... if they don't, then remember this night: you can come to these places and drink and enjoy yourself with the girls here. Doing that will not damage your character... it will help it..." and once again Federico released him and walked them back down the corridor, and on to the tables on the ground floor where they drank and talked and laughed until the events of the early evening were almost forgotten to both.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: We do not own any of the characters; all characters belong to Ubisoft. We are poor little penguins who cannot afford to be sued, but we are close to completing a round with Ubisoft's golf clubs, thank God for them!

Once again, please remember that man love is real love too. If you don't like the idea of hot, sexy men, enjoying what they're mama's gave them, with other hot, sexy men, please refrain from reading and consult other more appropriate documentation.

Reviews are always welcome, please enjoy...

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><p>It was the night before Ezio was scheduled to leave Florence to spend a few weeks with family in the countryside and he was running through the streets with a group of friends, rushing to their drinking destination for the evening located not far from the Auditore family home. As they rushed, shouting and laughing down the now deserted Florentine streets, shutters were slammed closed against their obtrusion into the silence of the night. They rounded a corner, nearing their destination now, and at the doorway to a little artist's workshop, set back from the street, a man stood watching them approach and smiling. Ezio's friends passed him without notice, but Ezio slowed his pace and jogged towards the man he had met only weeks before in the company of his mother. Leonardo da Vinci smiled brightly at him and Ezio returned the gesture. He passed him, still moving quickly, and as he moved away from the door he saw the man raise a hand in a wave. Again he returned the gesture, but this time his feet faltered. A thought flashed across his mind. Leonardo was alone, and although Ezio did not know him well he had enjoyed his company. Had liked his company, and was grateful to have made found a friend in him. He wandered if he should go back and invite the artist to come out with them. Leonardo was not much older than he or his friends, and there he was spending a night alone when he could be joining them in their revelry. By the time he had made up his mind to go back to the artist, he was long passed the workshop and the door was closed. Leonardo was gone. Ezio's friends shouted to him and he quickened his pace to catch them.<p>

Rounding a final corner, they entered a familiar, but non-descript street, where they stopped before a building draped in red ribbons. Without hesitation, they passed through the door and began their evening.

Ezio had been to this bordello before: his brother Federico had brought him here more than once and they had enjoyed many nights here drinking and talking into the small hours. While Ezio's friends participated fully in the favours the establishment offered, Ezio rarely spent his money on companionship. He had done in the past and would do again, but he enjoyed the atmosphere of this place more than anything. He had his favourite girls of course, and they rarely charged much for his skills which they all at least pretended fully to enjoy, but a memory of this place and its effect on him prevented his full submersion into the entertainments of the brothel. Ezio did not think of that first night here, and the embarrassment he had caused himself. Instead, he enjoyed the attentions of the girl draped across his lap, and drank and talked with his friends as they moved back and forth between the table and the bedrooms upstairs.

The night wore on. Ezio had an early start before him the next morning, and he knew he should think about heading home. He also felt a pang of guilt which he could not fully explain. It related to his newest friend: he was convinced he should have invited Leonardo here tonight when he had passed him in the street. The man was fun to talk to, and he intrigued Ezio, but equally he was a young man alone at night when he could be here, amongst companions and entertainment. Finishing his final drink, Ezio staggered to his feet and bid his goodbyes, prizing the girl from his lap as he did so. He could see the disappointment in her face. He passed her an extra coin.

"I shall return soon my dear," he whispered in her ear, and she giggled while slipping his money into her pocket.

"Goodbye my friends," Ezio announced to his companions, "I look forward to a night like this on my return!"

Ezio re-entered the street to cheers echoing behind him through the now closing bordello door. Still swaying slightly, more so when the cool night air hit him, he padded off down the streets towards his home. In so doing, he passed the workshop of Leonardo da Vinci once more. Candle-light shone out from the building into the street, and Ezio found himself stopping and walking to the door. He missed the small step before the workshop entrance and caught himself on the door. Shaking slightly, he pulled himself upright and tried to breathe deeply and collect his thoughts. Raising a hand to the door, he knocked, and realised on doing so he had no idea what he was doing. He didn't want to tell Leonardo that he had thought of inviting him... somehow it seemed inappropriate to reveal the location of the night's merriment, but he did want to speak with his new friend, especially given that he was going to be absent for a few weeks. He thought of something to say: he would invite his new friend out for a drink when he returned.

The door slowly opened, not fully, before him, and Ezio wondered how long he had been standing there.

"Ezio Auditore!" the artist exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing here at this hour?"

Ezio faltered; of course it was late. "My friend forgive me, I was passing and I wanted to speak to you,"

"To me?" Leonardo slipped through the door and closed it behind him. He did not invite Ezio inside. "Is anything wrong my friend?"

"No no, I was just thinking..." Ezio stumbled his words, in great part due to the alcohol flowing through his system. He looked at Leonardo's questioning and concerned face in the moonlight. He seemed to glisten; his hair fell about his face and his normally pristine appearance seemed somehow crumpled. He wore no jacket and his shirt was unbuttoned, untucked also, and he was shoeless. Pieces fell together in Ezio's mind, and he felt foolish. He couldn't imagine, based on the other man's appearance, that Leonardo had been spending the evening wishing to have been invited out with Ezio and his friends.

"Ezio?"

"I am sorry. I am disturbing you. That was not my intention; I merely wished to say that I am going away for a few weeks..." The artist continued to look bemused. "... and I was hoping that when I returned you would consent to coming out for a drink with me? I value our friendship, such as it is, and I should like to get to know you better." Ezio finished, now uncertain himself. To his relief Leonardo broke into a massive smile. He took both of Ezio's hands in his and shook them.

"Ezio, nothing would give me greater pleasure," Leonardo's hands were warm, "Come to me as soon as you return!" Leonardo pulled Ezio into a slight hug. Ezio swayed again, caught off balance, but the slender man held him in place with surprising strength. "Thank you for coming by Ezio, I look forward to your return". With that the artist was gone, and Ezio was back on the streets making slow progress home, and wondering if he hadn't made a fool of himself.

The weeks had passed so slowly in the countryside, and Ezio had missed the busy streets of his own city: the noise and the people; the atmosphere they bestowed on the place and its buildings. Strolling through the familiar streets once again, Ezio passed by the courtyard of his family home and continued onto a street he had walked down many a time before, intent on fulfilling a promise to a friend. A drink with Leonardo; the notion had been on his mind for quite some time. He was not entirely sure why the idea had engulfed his mind to such a degree: perhaps it was the simple longing for friendship; or perhaps it was the absolute intrigue that the artist caused in Ezio. The sun was high in the sky but Ezio did not think it would be too early for a drink and Leonardo had asked for him to return to the workshop the moment he arrived in Florence; at least that was what he could remember of their conversation. Quickly, Ezio came upon the workshop, but on finding the windows shut and the shutters closed his heart sank a little. Still, knowing there was a slight chance - as his new friend was known to have unusual habits - Ezio knocked loudly, his fist hammering down on the wooden door. A small thud sounded from inside the workshop, and Ezio could hear someone rushing about inside. An eternity seemed to pass before he could hear the bolts and locks on the other side being moved. And, as slowly as it had done the night before Ezio had departed, the door was opened, and the artist peered around it. Leonardo's face was different now; not as Ezio had left it. The brightness of his eyes had faded; his hair dishevelled and out of place; and, while this time he was fully dressed, it was as if he had done so in a hurry: the shirt over his thin frame hung upon him as if was several sizes too big and had been buttoned incorrectly. His face too appeared paler than Ezio had seen it before and, although only a small seven years separated them, his faced was more aged – the lines deeply etched into the artist's flesh.

"Leonardo," began Ezio, his voice shaking, "I was just..." His voice trailed off, and fell into complete silence.

Leonardo's eyes were fixed upon Ezio, but did not fully take him in or seem to understand and translate who he was. A long time passed, and the two stared at one another, confusion reigning over both. "Ezio." Leonardo stressed each noise, drawing the sounds out, and puzzling over it as if it were a word in a language he was not accustomed to. "Home so soon..?"

Ezio frowned slightly. "Leonardo, I have been gone for weeks."

A small nod was given as a response. "I am afraid I have not noticed...the time passing, I mean to say."

"What has happened, Leonardo?"

"Oh nothing, nothing..." Leonardo looked down and his shoulders heaved. "Some people have been... there have been things said about me..." Words failed the artist again. "I have not had a very good few weeks I am afraid my friend, but a drink. We were going to go for a drink. Although I fear I should decline; I will make very poor company tonight..."

"No, please, if you feel up to it, please come out with me, I think I know a place that will cheer you up. A place where any man can forget all his cares! Get ready and come with me"

Ezio slowly passed into the workshop, and Leonardo departed to another room to change. Ezio looked at the room. Where on his last visit, with his mother, it had been relatively organised, now it was upturned. There were dirty plates and cups, stale bread, and papers scattered everywhere. Ezio moved to the desk. There were letters there, formal in nature, written in a shaky hand, but Ezio was better raised than to think it right to look. The workshop was indeed a mess, and whatever had happened to Leonardo since Ezio had been gone; whatever trouble had found its way to his door had clearly affected him deeply. Ezio thought back to the night before he left for the country, and remembered thinking that Leonardo had company; there was no evidence of that now. He had no idea of how long his friend had stayed in these rooms alone and cut off from the world, but he intended to remedy that tonight.

Leonardo now ready, the pair left the workshop together and set off in the direction of the bordello, where Ezio intended to raise the artist's spirits. As they walked, side by side down the streets Ezio couldn't help but notice the strange looks they both received from passersby. Leonardo seemed visibly to flinch as the people stared at them, and Ezio passed an arm comfortingly around the other man's shoulders. Leonardo jumped from him as though touched by fire.

"No my friend..."

"Come here," Ezio implored, and without waiting for a response he pulled Leonardo in close to him. "You won't tell me what has happened, but I won't see you upset. Now come here, and let us enjoy our evening. Ignore everyone else but me." Ezio held Leonardo until they reached their destination, and even then he was reluctant to let him go. He could discern no real reason why, but he liked to protect others, and at this moment he felt Leonardo needed protecting more than anyone else he knew.

Ezio opened the door to the bordello and pulled Leonardo inside. He was greeted loudly, and he smiled to those in the room he recognised. He dragged the artist to a table and summoned drinks, and in so doing he missed completely the expression of dismay, and panic, on the artist's face.

"Now my friend, drink and relax,"

The noise of the bordello was startling to Leonardo after his long weeks of isolation. He drank deeply, and after several glasses and much talk he felt almost ready to laugh again. He could not bring himself to talk to Ezio of the charges so recently levelled against him: how could he explain that to this young man who simply sought his friendship. This man, young and innocent, in this place where he was lord and king; how could Ezio ever understand, and worse, how could he ever want to be friends with him if he knew... if he only knew... Leonardo downed his glass in one.

"My friend, it seems you have truly needed this. Let me get us some food, you look like you could stand to eat,"

Without waiting for a response Ezio had more drinks and food brought to their table. Made uncomfortable by the gesture, Leonardo made to pass some coins across the table, but the younger man pushed them back to him without a glance.

"Ezio,"

Ezio turned and to Leonardo's shock he grabbed his thigh under the table. Leonardo's heart raced and heat flushed to his face. "Leonardo, we are friends, and you are in distress. You will not tell me the full cause, and I respect that, but let me at least do this for you."

Leonardo could say nothing. The young man's strong hand on his thigh dissipated all words from his tongue. Despite his desires, he pulled away from Ezio's touch: he couldn't stand the thought of anyone seeing that given his current predicament, and yet the fingers burned into his flesh long after Ezio's hand was gone. He felt a stirring within himself, and breathed deeply.

Several plates of food later, and after much more wine, the night was going well. Leonardo couldn't deny how much he was enjoying the young man's company, and he deeply appreciated this kind act of friendship. Ezio too was grateful for the company, but his favourite girl had recently deposited herself in his lap and the conversation the two had been enjoying was becoming difficult, both because of this new addition to their company, and because of the copious quantities of wine. Ezio had been gone from the city for a while now, and he was eager for a physical release for the passionate energy which had built up in him throughout his time in the country. He lowered his lips to the girl's neck and sucked at her skin. She responded with a giggle, and Ezio felt himself stir. He looked to his companion who was now staring into his glass and not at him. Finally he caught his eye and Leonardo smiled, as if giving him permission to leave the table. Ezio signalled for more wine to be brought to his friend, and half-carried the girl up the stairs to a room, where he satiated his passion and left her, now flush with coins.

The release was all Ezio had needed, and although it did not fully satisfy him, he quickly returned to the table and to Leonardo, only to find it deserted. He smiled to himself, and sat to drink a glass of wine. After several he became aware how quickly the night was drawing closer to the dawn, and he decided, in his slightly intoxicated state to seek out his friend. He wanted to talk more, and he also wanted rest in his own bed. He had spent more than enough tonight, too much to justify sleeping here. Starting up the stairs again, he began to search the rooms of convulsing or sleeping bodies for his friend.

Ezio could not find Leonardo in any of the rooms, but still he continued his search. Gradually he was running out of options, and his feet led him further down the corridor until he found himself standing outside a room with which he was familiar. It was a door he had stood in front of once before, and it was a door that led to a room rented out for a purpose that Ezio had never utilised himself. He felt a strange quiver in his body; a memory of a feeling he had experienced outside this room once before. It was his last option, but perhaps Leonardo had left already. The vague thoughts of what Leonardo had said about people talking about him came crashing back. Sighing deeply, Ezio opened the door, not really expecting his friend to be in this final room.

The door opened to reveal a candlelit room and Ezio found himself transported back to a year before, when he had stood in this same doorframe and experienced something which had stirred him deeper than he had ever felt stirred before. His breath caught in his throat once again... before him a man whose back he recognised pounded against another body, who this time he knew to be a man. And he knew it immediately to be his friend. Again he found himself transfixed upon the scene before him and he couldn't move. The man he had recognised pounded into Leonardo, and the artist knelt before him, hands clutching the headboard. Ezio couldn't see his friend's face, but the force with which the other man was entering him seemed to Ezio to be more than any person could surely bear. The man pounded again and again into Leonardo without respite. The pain his friend must be feeling... but he had chosen this. Ezio could see the coins furnishing the bedside table and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Leonardo had been accused of wanting this, and here before him he saw evidence he desperately knew he needed to hide. Ezio couldn't drag his eyes from his friend. The moaning coursing from Leonardo's throat was becoming harder and heavier, and one of his friend's hands moved from the headboard to the front of his body. Ezio stopped breathing. Suddenly Leonardo lurched forward, and almost screamed into the night. The man behind him continued to pound until after seconds he mimicked Leonardo's sounds. Leonardo turned to face the man behind him, lips parted and wet with passion, and eyes heavy with lust. There was no suggestion of pain on his face, but his eyes met Ezio's before the younger man could pull away. They stared at each other for mere seconds that felt like hours, until Ezio finally pulled the door closed and raced down the hall, down the stairs and out of the door of the bordello. He left not because he hated the sight before him, but because the stirrings he felt beneath his naval were more than he could cope with – as they had been a year ago – and the fact that now it was his friend's image that he had stared upon, was more than his now apparently young-again- mind could deal with after so much wine.


	3. Chapter 3

All characters are owned by Ubisoft; we cannot afford to be sued, and we seem to be quite bad at golf so we may need to borrow their clubs for a little while longer...

Once again, don't read if you're likely to be offended. Equally, do read if you're likely to enjoy.

More to follow.

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><p>Dawn's early light came crashing through the open window early the next morning: too early in Ezio's mind. He flailed around trying to find covers to pull over his head so he could hide from this new day a little while longer. He could find nothing, and opening his eyes, he realised in dismay that he had fallen asleep atop the covers, fully clothed, with his boots still on. He made to sit up on his bed, but was pushed back down onto the pillow by a sudden, heady force which flooded to his temples and applied an unfathomable pressure behind his eyes. If his throat hadn't been so parched, and if the noise wouldn't have hurt his head further, he would have screamed. Ezio rolled onto his back, and felt a tired ache spread throughout his limbs. He didn't remember drinking so much. Yes, he remembered the bordello, and he had been known to over-quench his thirst there on occasion, but last night had been fun and enjoyable. He had talked and laughed, eaten and drank, had enjoyed the entertainment of his favourite girl, and had made a great friend in the company of... of Leonardo. And there was the true pain, hitting him like a falling brick and crushing him further into the pillow. Leonardo. He had left him; run out on him and left him when he should have been entertaining him, and he had no idea how he would explain that... but he hadn't been the only one entertaining Leonardo last night. Ezio closed his eyes and leaned back. He had no idea what to think, let alone say. He had had such a good time last night, and had enjoyed Leonardo's company; indeed he had been thrilled to find a great friend, but what he had seen... and how he had behaved... and what he had felt to make him behave in such a way...<p>

Leonardo was awake and pacing around his small bedroom, having expelled himself from his main workshop to prevent any more destruction occurring there by his own hand. He was angry. Very angry. Angry at himself. He had been reluctant to go out last night, and yet he had such fun despite himself, and despite his situation. Ezio had proved himself to be a true friend, and the kindness the man had shown, his gentle words, his interest and concern, and yes, his touch, had made Leonardo forget all his concerns, and be grateful beyond expression for his new friend. And then he had blown it. Had gone upstairs and paid that man, and why? To satiate a fleeting desire? And Ezio had seen him... and the look in his eyes. Leonardo raised a fist to the wall and slammed his weight into it. He felt sick at his own actions. He could have been caught the night before; maybe had been, and then his situation would deteriorate beyond all comprehension. And yet right now that was not his greatest concern. Ezio had seen him, and had left, and Leonardo had spent hours searching the streets of Florence for him without success. And now he was pacing this small room, desperate to speak to Ezio, but lacking any ideas of what to say, and feeling so sick to his stomach that he wasn't sure he would make it to the Auditore villa. He slammed his fist into the wall once again, and slumped down onto his bed. Elbows on knees and hands cradling his head, Leonardo heaved a sigh; it echoed from deep within his body, and reverberated around the small room, and seemed to last hours, travelling from one point and sounding in the artist's ears again. Dragging his body up, he pulled the shutters open, letting in the bright light of the day. It pierced his fatigued eyes like small needles pricking away at his fair skin, and he allowed the pain to pass, making no move to cover his eyes or back away from the window, the guilt and anger he felt towards himself greater than any pain that could be bestowed on his body. He leaned against the window sill, looking over the city of Florence, his mind picturing the streets and building he knew by heart, the ones he had passed through day after day; and in the distance, not far from his own workshop, he could make out the shape of the Auditore home, where Ezio would slowly be waking. His stomach churned as another pang of guilt swept through him at the thought of the young man, who he had abandoned the night before. His hands formed small, but tight fists, his skin whitening across the knuckles, as his breath caught in throat. He watched that vague shape on the horizon for what seemed like aeons, the look in the young man's eyes from the night before still emblazoned and imprinted on his memory, before Leonardo felt his strength gathering. Moving away from the window, his feet carried him to the front door and would lead him down the streets he knew so well, their purpose now clear.

But a short distance away Ezio forced himself from his bed, and went directly to a small desk on the other side of the room where he knew he would find a large jug of water. Pouring a glass he drank deep, not once pausing for breath, before immediately filling the glass and tipping it up again. The dry, almost fuzzy feeling left his mouth, and the dull ache at the front of his head seemed to ease with the cool water. He took the remainder of the water and poured it into a deep basin. A quick breath in and Ezio pushed his face into the liquid, and held it there for a few moments. Bringing his head out, he rubbed his eyes and stumbled to the window, his hands grasping weakly for support. His body still felt weak, but his mind ploughed through the images he had seen in the Bordello, peering into a room from a dingy corridor...the bodies writhing with fury and passion...and his eyes; those kind, light eyes that had met his across the small distance. Those eyes that had filled with such a profound burning as that man – the same man he had watched almost a year ago – thrust into his friend. Ezio pushed his eyes together, trying to block out the images that still played across his mind, still caused that stirring, and tried to forget how he had left his friend – how he had ran away from him, as if Leonardo was something to be feared, something to be disgusted by. But Ezio, in the clear day light, could feel a yearning, a small voice that sounded and begged him to seek out Leonardo. He needed to apologise, to explain himself, although Ezio did not understand his own actions.

Leonardo stalked through the streets of Florence, his body guiding him without thought to the Auditore villa. Again people in the street who he knew not, stared at him and passed comment. On this day, Leonardo did not care. Let them talk; let them think, for they talk about things they did not understand. His pace quickened and he neared the villa. Only there did he pause, his breath catching in his throat once again.

Ezio slunk out of his bedroom window, avoiding the courtyard, and sliding down to the ground as his brother had taught him many years before. Taking the backstreets, he half-walked, half-jogged in the direction of Leonardo's workshop.

Taking in one last deep breath, Leonardo walked across the courtyard and rapped sharply on the door. He stood, wanting to retreat, listening to the silence. Finally the door was opened.

"I was wondering if Ezio was at home..." Leonardo half whispered to the servant girl who opened the door.

"I am not sure if he is home... can I pass on a name?"

"Yes... yes... Leonardo... da Vinci. Leonardo da Vinci. I want to speak only to Ezio,"

The girl nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but a figure behind her blocked off the doorway. A harsh voice spoke:

"You may leave us now, I will deal with this."

It took Leonardo mere moments to recognise the voice, and then he felt his heart stop altogether. Memories raged to the surface, and a pain deep in his stomach took precedent over the feelings of guilt which were propelling him forward. Leonardo stumbled back.

"Federico," his voice was cracking though he tried to control it.

The servant girl was pushed harshly aside by the young man who stood behind her, and Ezio's older brother stepped into the light of the early morning sun.

"Leo, what are you doing here?"

"Federico..." Leonardo stared dumbly at the man before him, hating himself for coming here today, for not thinking his plan through. "Federico, how are you?" Leonardo made to step forward, but faltered as Federico raised a hand.

"What do you want here Leo? Is it not enough that my mother is now buying your art? Why are you here?"

The hatred in Federico's eyes could have split Leonardo's soul in two, but he stood strong, angry once again, remembering and thinking as he moved closer to the door.

"I am here to see Ezio. I must speak to him Federico, this is not about us. I must speak to your brother."

"You won't be speaking to him today. He came home drunk last night, and I know not if he is even here now. Leo you have no right to be here, I do not wish to speak to you and I do not wish for you to speak to my brother."

"Federico don't deny me this. Ezio and I are friends..."

"And I know all about that Leo, go away now please. My brother is young and easily confused, I will not allow you to corrupt him..."

"Corrupt him? The way I did you?" Anger raged in Leonardo's voice and hurt raced through his veins. "I was never responsible for that, as you well know, and I care for Ezio as a friend..."

"You know not what to do with friends! Leave my brother alone!"

"Well you would know better than most how I treat my friends, and yet I don't recall you ever complaining... Don't interrupt me. Federico that was a long time ago..."

"And you have not changed..."

"That was a long time ago... I will not taint that with harsh words now. Tell Ezio I came by, and tell him I want to speak to him, and you can feel free to keep your opinions to yourself. I am sorry Federico, I always was, but it was never my fault, what happened... what happened was never my fault... and I had hoped never to see you again, as you so wished."

Leonardo turned and walked back out of the courtyard, reaching behind his head and unleashing his hair so he had something to toy with in his anger. He passed out into the street and walked away, but still Federico stayed at the door, looking out at Leonardo da Vinci...

da Vinci... he had never known him as that. He stared as the man walked away, and as Leo let down his hair he remembered the way it used to fall across his face and neck. Standing with one hand against the door frame, he wrapped the other arm across his stomach and felt himself weaken. He had felt sure he would never see Leo again. He passed a hand across his eyes and exhaled deeply. He thought of Ezio, but he could not allow Ezio to be close to Leo. Of course the artist was a lovely man and charming and intelligent, but no, he could not allow it... he could not...

'Federico climbed the stairs of the bordello, his throat sore from laughing and talking and his head heavy with wine. He wanted his friend, and he searched for him now, looking for more stories and extravagant tales, and as he passed through the rooms of the bordello, looking in and finding nothing, his desire increased ever more. Finally he found himself at the final door on the second floor. Opening it, he looked into the darkness and there he saw his friend, Leo, splayed on his back, legs on another man's shoulders, and face contorted in pleasure. As he thought of leaving, silently closing the door and turning aside, Leo reached out a hand to the other man's waist and forced him down into his body. The groans of pleasure stopped any further thoughts of leaving, and Federico positioned himself so he blocked out much of the light from the hallway. He continued to stare into the room, at his friend. With each deep, searching thrust Leo's back arched further off the bed towards the other man, and with each gasped breath and each groan of passion Federico clung harder to the doorframe for support. His legs trembled beneath him, and fingers sunk into the wood; his head spun as he watched the two bodies, each quaking with need, and hands that were searching out, grasping for the hot flesh of the other. The man on top dipped towards Leo, his lips pushing against the artist's flesh, and the contact caused Leo to let out a long, unfathomable moan. It sounded above all the other noises – the wails from the girls just down the corridor; the breath and groans from the other man – and Federico felt a quiver move down his spine; it spread across his body and reached his front. He felt the tension in his penis build; it began to swell, to ache...Leo let out another thrilled cry as the other man quickened his pace, his hands pressing Leo down, keeping him pinned to the bed. The teasing from the man on top seemed to spur Leo on, and he bucked furiously against the other, while his hands moved to grip the firm muscled body that now plunged into to his enticing shape. Federico bit his bottom lip, stopping a moan that burned to be free, his body agonised and tormented with the new feeling that raged within it. What he viewed was something new to him; it intrigued his mind, and he longed to discover it. He wanted Leo; he wanted to discover this new world with his friend. And more than anything, Federico wanted to touch that body that he saw before him. He had never seen a man move that way before, and he had never imagined that sex could be this way before. He had never seen such passion; such desire, it didn't even feel right to him to debase the sight he witnessed by calling it sex. This was love, and that was Leo, and Federico wanted to be part of it more than he had wanted anything else in his life before. Shaking aside the concerns about the nature of the act before him; about his family and his background, Federico walked into the room. He threw money on the bedside table, and physically removed the other man, allowing him to take the money. Leo was left, panting, wanting, and naked on the bed, and Federico closed the door, and shut out the world.'


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All character belong to Ubisoft. We are just poor little penguins who can't afford to be sued...However, we are still playing with their golf clubs...and did we just get a hole in one?

Again, this chapter, especially, contains some very hot man on man sex! If you do not like, do not read! You have been warned! However, if you do like the idea of hot man sex, read and please review! The boys need some encouragement and we need some fish!

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><p>Leo had long disappeared out of Federico's sight; behind him he could hear one of the servant girls moving, the heels of her shoes on the flagstone floor raping the silence he longed for. He turned to her and with a quick wave of his arm, Federico sent her away. Flustered, she collected her items and, in her haste, spilled them from her arms. They landed with an earth shattering clatter. Federico could stand no more. "Forget them! Leave them and go." The girl faltered and began to broach an apology. "Go quickly!" His voice was harsh, and indignant. The young girl ran to the nearest door, as her eyes filled with tears, and in her haste she propelled herself into the young Ezio, who, like his brother, seemed perturbed.<p>

"Clumsy," he spat, removing the girl, without any shred of sympathy, from his chest.

"I am sorry, Master Ezio...I just...I..."

"I do not care; just go."

The girl fled finally from the scene and Ezio stalked down the main hallway, pausing at the figure of his brother. He stopped and looked at him:

"Federico," anger was dripping from his voice, and he failed completely to disguise it, "Have there been any callers today?"

Federico turned away from his brother, his hand back across his face.

"Federico I asked you a question!"

"No Ezio! Leo... no one called today."

Ezio felt the anger shudder through his brother. "Leo? What did you say? Has Leonardo been here?"

"No Ezio! No one has been here," Federico launched himself at his brother and flung him against the wall, pinning him in place with both hands on his shirt. "No one, and you will not speak his name in this house. Have you no idea..."

Ezio pushed Federico from him with such force that his elder sibling fell sprawling on the floor. "What is the matter with you? I asked you a question? You still think you have the right to push me around. It was a question Federico what is wrong with you?" Federico rolled to his front and started pulling himself from the floor; as he did so, his shoulders heaved and plump, silent tears began to seep from his eyes. "Federico, have I hurt you?" Ezio made to touch his brother's arm, to pull him to his feet, but Federico threw off his touch.

"Leave me Ezio, I have answered your question. Just leave me!" Leaving Ezio staring perplexed at an empty patch of floor, Federico gathered himself and raced from the room to his bedroom.

Once there, he pushed back the shutters, forcing the daylight out of his small room, and came to collapse on the bed, sinking his face into one of the soft pillows. In his throat his scream formed, and tore unrelentingly to be free; however, he could only emit small, sharp whimpers into his pillow. He brought his hands down in fists against the mattress, forcing them further into the bed until he could feel the wooden frame against his knuckles. Leo had come to his door, but not for him...for Ezio, for his younger brother, his foolish younger brother. When had they met? How had they met? ...And how had they come to be such great _friends_? He slammed his fists harder before him, kicking off his boots and pushing his body into the mattress, his face into the pillow. His Leo... He wept bitterly, not taking time to breathe as the sobs racked his body. His Leo... What was Ezio doing with his Leo? He cried harder. No. No he couldn't think of that. He couldn't bear to imagine those hands: those soft and tender fingers; those paint-covered, those charcoal-covered, those oil-covered fingers, he couldn't imagine them on his brother's body. Surely Leo wouldn't be that cruel to him? Be so cruel as to make him think like this, about the hands of his lover, his ex-lover – he sobbed harder – on his young brother's body. But then after what he had done to Leo... how he had hurt him... betrayed him... Ezio was stronger than him. He had no energy left to lash out. His mind was shutting down, focussing on nothing... nothing but those fingers.

'Those fingers, long and slender, talented and searching: those fingers of that older man on his young skin. His skin never before touched, never before set aflame until Leo had taken him in his arms. The strength in those arms, and the love in those eyes: the hair falling across Leo's face as he pulled him closer, and then those kisses...'

Federico pulled a hand under him, pulling it across his neck and down to his chest which still pressed tight into the bed. He unleashed the ties on his cream cotton shirt and felt his chest. His nipples were hard, and he wept without tears at the feel of them.

'Leo pulled Federico's tongue into his mouth, the taste of his breath and the warmth of him forcing Federico's manhood to attention...'

Federico brought his hand from his hardened nipples, down across the fabric of his clothes to his waistband. He felt the pressure of his erection pushing into the mattress, and, breathing heavily, he slipped his hand underneath his waistband, and stroked his throbbing penis.

'Leo whispered to him, three little words he had said before, and then without breaking their kiss he wrapped his arms around Federico's waist and lifted him from the hallway, up the familiar staircase to the younger man's small bedroom, where he pulled back the covers, holding his lover with one strong arm, before placing him into his own bed.'

Federico wrapped a hand around his ever-growing erection.

'Looking into those beautiful blue eyes, Federico allowed Leo to undress him, panting always, and groaning at those small touches as Leo's fingers dipped beneath laces to reveal his naked flesh. He relied on the older man to lead him, although they had danced this dance many times before.'

Federico groaned loudly through still weeping eyes as he struggled from his clothes; first his jacket and shirt, and then his breeches, desperate to feel the pressure of his weight pushing his engorged penis into the bed. Memories from this room came flooding back to him, and as much as he longed to control himself, he couldn't control, never had been able to control, the longings Leo – and only Leo – made him feel. He heard a door slam in the house and turned his head, pressing a cheek into the cold pillow. Beside him he saw Leo, beautiful Leo, smiling to him, taking care of him in more ways than one.

Ezio took out his aggression on his bedroom door. Then he took it out on the shutters. Then in the darkness he attacked the table by his bed, sending glasses and paperwork to the floor. He punished his boots and ankles next, yanking his footwear from his body with such harshness that the leather ripped slightly at the seams. Then it was the turn of his clothes, which he threw across the room. He yanked his hands through his hair and across his face. He could think of nothing but Leonardo. He hadn't been home, but how could Ezio have expected him to be? After what he had done? After how he had hurt him? He threw himself back on the bed, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing there, but a constant, ever-streaming replay of the events of the night before.

Leonardo came to his workshop door and rushed inside. One of his assistants came up to him and began some insistent chatter – something, a painting that he had yet to complete for some god-awful woman...Leonardo sighed. The young man continued pulling papers from his pockets and pushing them to Leonardo's face. Leonardo pulled them from the hands, and, with quick fingers, shredded them to nothing. "I have no need for you today."

"Master, I have something important to tell you! That painting -"

"I have spoken: I do not need you today. Please just leave me now...I shall see you in the morning."

"But...But..."

"If you go now I will consider seeing you in the morning. If you linger but a moment longer, I shall have nothing more to do with you."

The threat hung in the air, and, with this ultimatum, the boy did not hesitate and made for the door, slamming it shut behind him, unfamiliar with Leonardo's temper. Once alone, Leonardo brought his fingers to his temples, making small circular motions with the tips trying to soothe the anger that tormented his being. How could he have been so foolish? He had marched up to the Auditore door and did not think for a second that he could end up standing face to face with Federico...he should have planned better. He should have...Leonardo could not stand it; he screamed – it tore through the silence, ripping it asunder, decimating the tranquil Florentine morning. His anger broke and harsh tears spilled from his eyes and down his face, leaving silvery streams on his fair skin. That man – how could he still anger him so? He himself was free from guilt: he didn't ask Federico into that room that night; he did not know what that one wine-filled evening could become. He began to pace the small space of his workshop, moving around it in circles, his mind clawing through the memories, the ones he had shared with that fucking man.

'He pushed Federico against the rough, stone wall. The grass of the courtyard under their feet and a warm, soft bed mere steps away, but this could not wait. He unleashed the cords on the young man's breeches and dropped to his knees before him, as Federico untied the artist's hair and passed his grasping hands through it. Leo took Federico's cock into his mouth, feeling its warmth and its pulses. His own erection pushed against the constraints of his clothes, but he ignored it, instead pulling Federico further into his mouth. He sucked harder, flicking his tongue across the head as Federico failed to silence his groans. Someone would hear, they both knew it, but that didn't seem to matter; not now... Leo raised his hands to Federico's tight, chiselled arse and pulled the man's hips towards him. Federico fell forwards, hands flying to Leo's shoulders, as Leo struggled to take all of his lover into his mouth. The vibrations of his moans only made Federico rock harder and he pounded into Leo, rutting faster against him, as Leo's hands groped his thighs and arse with increasing strength. Federico would not last long now, rarely could either of them, but Leo kept up his ministrations as the young man panted faster and louder into the twilight which surrounded them.'

Federico pulled his erection into his hands once again, and he moved one slowly up and down the shaft. His mind continued to flood with memories, and tossing himself onto his back, one hand still earnestly stroking his penis, he moved the other across his right thigh, and around and under him, to his arse where he pushed a dry finger into his opening, eliciting moans for a feeling he had not felt in over two years. Two long years.

'Leo lay atop Federico, and Federico basked in the warmth of his lover. He felt their sweat and his own semen on his torso, and felt Leo's hands stroking his abs and hardened nipples. He was spent, and he ached where his lover had pounded inside of him. He reached a hand back into Leo's soft hair. How he loved that hair. He felt Leo's lips smile into his chest. He didn't want this to ever end. Looking down smiling at his lover, he flushed with surprise as Leo flipped him, pushing one of his cheeks into a cold pillow while Leo crawled down his back. He felt Leo's tongue trail between his muscles, across his arse which still cried out in objection to the absence of Leo's touch, and then, as he closed his eyes and cuddled the pillow, he found his body propelled up the bed, and then retrieved and held in place by strong hands, as Leo's tongue flicked at his entrance. The sounds which escaped him could be neither retracted nor controlled. Leo traced his opening, and then pushed his tongue inside his lover. Federico screamed, but did not move away. Not until the door opened, and the outside world swept inside...'

Federico yelled out as his pace quickened. He felt his own warmth splash across his hands as he came, and in the loneliness and silence that followed, he wept for a lover he could no longer touch or reveal his feelings to. Moving from the bed in haste, he donned breeches and a shirt and raced, his anger driving him, down the corridors to Ezio's bedroom door.

Ezio replayed the scenes, again and again, and as he did so he found himself focussing more on Leonardo and the man who had held him, who had made love to him, than on his own guilt. He remembered the passion with which the man had pushed into his friend, and as he recalled the image to his mind he felt those same stirrings in his loins that he could still not explain. He couldn't stop the images from seeping into his consciousness, and he couldn't stop the growth in his penis as he thought... he couldn't stay his own hands either. They slipped between his legs, and when he took hold of his penis he found it already wet; his passion had spent itself over the half-formed thoughts that commanded his mind. He let out a moan and with it came that name: 'Leonardo.' The man's name echoed throughout the bedroom: a hole formed in the pit of Ezio's stomach and was filled with fire as 'Leonardo' lingered on his lips. He wanted the artist, to feel him, and not just watch from the sidelines like a weak, pathetic voyeur. He would have him, had to have him...he had to obey the feelings that surged through his body – he could not deny how right this seemed.

Leonardo crashed into a chair by the fireplace. He refused to allow himself to fall victim to these ridiculous memories and thoughts, but he could not control the passion that burned inside of him. Turning to the table, he took up a bottle of wine and poured a generous glass, which he left on the table as he tipped the contents of the bottle into his mouth. He was hard, but he needed to cry. He couldn't think about these things, these memories that he had so long ago banished from his thoughts... but he couldn't control this. Fuck that man! He could never control this when he was with him.

'Federico's passion flooded into Leo's mouth and Leo swallowed hard, drinking down his lover. He stayed on his knees as Federico passed all of his weight onto his body. Federico was weak, and Leo wanted him in his arms, in his bed. He raised his eyes to look at his lover and there he saw that beautiful face...'

Ezio's face. Leonardo collapsed into his chair again. He had stopped breathing, but that didn't mean he needed to stop drinking. Ezio. No, that was wrong... Federico had stood before him, but not now. Now his Federico was not in his mind, not in his memories. Instead Ezio filled his mind. Kind Ezio, passionate and sensitive Ezio... strong Ezio. Yes, strong. Ezio was stronger than Federico had ever been. Ezio must surely have known of the rumours that were spreading about him when he wrapped his arm across his shoulders and walked him to the bordello that night. Ezio had not cared, not cared... not cared... it had been a totally opposite reaction to that of Federico when they had been caught. Ezio had been kind to him, and now, as Leonardo took the bottle of wine - leaving the full glass beside the chair - and walked to his bedroom, it was Ezio who he imagined walked with him. Ezio, in his mind, did not walk behind him as Federico had always done, allowing himself to be led to the bed. Ezio walked before him, pulling at his hands and clothes, desperately taking Leonardo to his own bed and laying him down to love him.

Federico closed on Ezio's bedroom door. The umbrage that coursed through his veins still unabated. His hand went to the silver door knob and rested there. His sweaty hands shook as they met the cold metal; from the room he could hear muffled sounds – Ezio seemed to be muttering to himself. Slowly he turned the handle, hearing a small click as the bolts came undone...

Ezio sat up on the bed, pulling his hands to his face as his passion lay exposed before him. The pieces had fallen into place, and at every corner, holding them all together, was the image of Leonardo. 'Leonado'... he muttered the name again, and couldn't stay his tongue as his bedroom door swung open.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews so far! :) Reviews are like fish to us, and without fish we don't have the strength to play golf!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Ubisoft and we are poor little penguins who cannot afford to be sued, we're still playing with those golf clubs though...we're still not very good at golf: we find it difficult to hold those clubs. Deepest apologises for the lack of man on man (unusual for us, we know), but don't worry the extravaganza is coming!

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><p>"Father I must talk to you." Federico entered into his father's dimly lit office. The desk, where his father was positioned, was cluttered with piles of various paperwork as it had always been in his memory. He knew his father would be preoccupied with the current legal problems plaguing Florence; once which seemed certain to involve Giovanni Auditore at some point, but a burning pain in his stomach told him what he had to say could not wait.<p>

"Federico, what is wrong? Is something the matter?" Federico's father looked up from his desk, and stared into the angered face of his oldest son. "Are you okay?"

"Yes... the problem lies with Ezio... he needs to be sent away father, he has fallen in with a bad crowd." Federico contorted his face into an expression of concern.

Giovanni Auditore stood up from his desk, and walked around to face Federico. "What are you talking about? Ezio is a good boy, and I know the boys he spends his time with. They are not a bad crowd. At least, they are no worse than the crowd I spent my time with when I was his age."

"You don't understand." Federico was angry now, more so than he had been and he walked away from the desk, resting his palms on the back of a chair and breathing deeply. His Leo... his brother wanted his Leo and he would not allow that. He would not allow Ezio to lie with his Leo... and the shame... the shame that he had fought so hard to avoid by turning his Leo away... he would not allow Ezio to bring that shame back down upon his family. If he had sacrificed to avoid that shame, then Ezio would also. If he had spent all those nights awake and weeping; all those daylight hours in a suffering that stopped him even moving from his own bed; if he had had to abandon all those conversations with his best friend; all those kisses from his greatest lover, then there was no way in Heaven or Hell he was going to allow Ezio the chance to get close to his Leo. "You do not understand father... I do not talk about the boys Ezio spends his time with... I speak about a man that Ezio wants to spend his time with."

"Federico..." The tone Giovanni used was one that Federico was all too familiar with; one that he had heard all those years ago as he stood in the same spot. It was a tone laced in confusion and harshness, and it felt patronising.

"I talk about Leo..." Federico dropped his eyes to the floor as he felt his father's rage fall upon him. The same rage – he didn't even need to look up to know it – that his father had greeted him with when he had barged into Federico's bedroom those years ago... the same rage which had greeted Federico when he looked up from his pillow, Leo still positioned behind him, and saw his father standing there staring at his act of passion.

"Federico I told you what would happen if you mentioned that name again!" His father's voice was not quite a scream, but danger dripped from each syllable like poison. Federico felt his nerves falter until he thought of Leo: the sadness that had spread slowly across that face as Federico had turned his back. Even the memory of that occasion sent a pang of guilt through Federico's body, and he felt his resolve strengthen.

"It is not me this time father, it is Ezio. Ezio has become friends with Leo since mother started buying his paintings. I worry for Ezio. He is so easily led. And with these charges, these charges of sodomy..." Federico was almost too ashamed to say the word in front of his father "... hanging over Leo; over Leonardo, I think you need to send Ezio away." Federico moved towards his father and took hold of his hands. "Please father, Ezio needs protected from this man..." Federico dropped his gaze to the floor as his soul dropped from his body and smashed upon it... He wanted to scream and kick and punch. Ezio could not be allowed to touch his Leo. "Please father, he must be sent away, so he may avoid Leonardo and save us all the shame such a relationship would bring to this family."


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Ubisoft; these golf clubs are damn good. Let's hope they let us complete a round without suing us! We're just poor little penguins and it would totally ruin our day to be sued.

On another note; apologies for the long sabbatical. One poor little penguin had to work all the hours penguin-God sent, and the other had to pop off to Peru for a month. But we're back... and much more to follow. Little penguin who was in Peru has come down with malaria, so please send fish healing goodness (reviews). Oh, and there is some violence in this one so those with nervous disposition should look away now!

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><p>Ezio tipped up the glass, slipping his tongue eagerly inside to collect the last drops that hung to the side of the vessel. He felt his head grow heavy with each drop of the ghastly, harsh red wine; however, twenty goblets down, he could hardly complain. The hours slowly dragged on, and only a few remained in the bordello to enjoy the company of the courtesans, who had long grown bored of entertaining the various men who pawed away at them. From his lonely position, Ezio watched one of his favourite girls; she caught his eye from the distance and came over, dropping herself into his lap. He grunted in displeasure, his temper short.<p>

"Ezio," she purred, "I am lonely." Ezio simply nodded in response, one hand shooting into the air and waving for yet another goblet of wine. "Are you not lonely, Ezio? You are all on your own." The wine came and Ezio again brought the vessel to his lips and drained the liquid in a few gulps without pausing for breath. "Ezio..." The girl continued her purring. "Shall we go upstairs, darling? Please, I am so bored!"

"Go." Ezio's voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper. The girl did not register it, her hands moving over his body, pushing them down into his shirt, teasing at the hot skin below, her fingers slowly coming to his nipples. They were hard, but not for her. She kept pushing into him, and Ezio's restraint broke, his manners severing with it, and he threw the girl from him. "Go Now!" As the girl scampered away he stood to his feet and swayed into the table. The hard heavy wooden table smacked into his groin and he half-collapsed over it, groaning under his breath. How dare his father send him away? And for what? For the friendships he had been keeping? And how did he know about Leonardo? Even the thought of his name sent his mind racing. He struggled upright. He was allowed to chose his own friends, and Le... that man... he ran a hand across his face trying to sober himself with his own touch. His new friend had been in trouble and he had helped him. What was wrong with that? What was wrong enough with that to deserve banishment? Ezio padded from the table to the open bordello door and breathed in the cool night air. The words his father had used still rang in his ears. His father had described acts, acts Ezio had never even imagined before, as if Ezio was guilty of them. From his father he had learned of Leonardo's crimes, but he had not felt the same rage and disgust for his friend that his father's voice had so clearly shown. Leonardo was... Ezio couldn't breathe thinking about it... But how had his father known about his night with Leonardo at this bordello? He swayed, and as his body moved back into the bordello, crashing against a wall, his eyes turned to the second floor and fell upon that door. That door... that door... Ezio was walking before he even noticed it.

Leonardo's body was propelled from his bed, wet with sweat, as the images of Ezio's face faded into the dark and the cold dying hours of the night. Leonardo pulled his sheet closer, holding them tight to his pounding chest, his heart beat sounding above the empty, friendless void. He struggled to catch his breath, his mind racing recalling Ezio's tight, youthful frame against his body. Their mouth meeting, ferocious with passion and hunger. Ezio's strong, skilled hands burning Leonardo's flesh as they teased his body to euphoria, and with each deft touch Leonardo elicited moans of absolute pleasure. Their naked bodies fell together, and Leonardo could feel an ache and a panic: his desire had to be unleashed, had to be released, but Ezio was inexperienced, had not loved like this before. But Ezio's dark eyes which looked down on Leonardo were filled with fearless confident, promising fulfilment. There was no need for Leonardo to fear anymore - Ezio was holding him, loving him and protecting him from the world and from himself.' Leonardo stirred, needing to feel that power again, but as he reached an arm out, seeking out that warm body, he found only cold sheets and a harsh, stone wall. Ezio was not there... had never been there...Once again Leonardo found himself alone, and a panic took hold of his body. The smallest of noises from the streets caused him to jump and he felt the darkness close in around him. He knew what was to come and he was afraid.

Ezio faltered at a door on the second floor he had stood at twice before. His drunken thoughts swam through his mind, listening to his aching groin. He pushed open the door. A man sat there on the bed, and for the first time Ezio saw the face of this prostitute properly. Undoubtedly the man was handsome, and as he turned to look at him Ezio saw the kind, but sorrowful eyes that made him think of Leonardo. The man stood from the bed, naked before him. His body strong and muscled, but purple bruises marred the olive toned flesh, while old wounds danced across his body. Although tall and strong, he seemed fragile and in that torrid place, he appeared to Ezio like some wilted flower. Around the room lay gold coins, enough for a good dwelling and food, but it lay unspent, unneeded. The other girls did not wait long: they collected their prize and left. His earning lay only as a sad reminder to the truth of the falsehoods of his life, of loves that were never real. Ezio made to step into the room with the man as the man walked towards him, with crying eyes. But Ezio couldn't. He couldn't move forward. Instead as the man reached him, he pushed a few coins in the man's hand, but the pieces fell through the limp grasp and he made no move to gather them. One coin rolled, after hitting the floor with a loud crack, and added to one of the piles that littered the ground. Ezio made to speak, but could think of nothing to say; instead, he offered his kindness. Reaching out, Ezio reached around the shoulders of the man, who seemed to collapse into his body, and drew him into an embrace. They stood, the man slowly linking his arms around Ezio's back, and for a while they remained like that, unmoving and unaware of the passage of time. Finally, Ezio found his voice. "He never paid you did he?"

"Who?" The man's head moved against his chest.

"Leonardo."

The name hung between them, but finally Ezio felt the man's head move in confirmation. "He has been with me two years maybe...we have known each other longer I think..."

Ezio could feel something wet against his skin, and the man's body lurched forward, and Ezio supported him, keeping the man up. The delicate body shuddered in Ezio's arms as sobs violently racked the man's frame. "My friend, what is wrong?"

The man pushed away from Ezio's chest and, wiping tears from his face, stared up at him. "It is nothing...really..."

"Please."

The man bit his lip, hesitant and afraid. "The man who was here before you, sir; I made to kiss him...he called me unnatural. I should know...they never want to be kissed by me." His voice broke, the pain finally revealing itself on the man's tired face. "Only your friend has kissed me...I am not unnatural, I have not sinned against nature..."

Ezio felt an anger bubble and rise within him. "Where is the man now?"

"Outside, outside in the alley."

"Thank you, my friend." He turned to leave, his fury guiding him. He made it down the corridor before he was brought to a halt. He returned to the room. "My friend? What is your name?"

"Silvio."

Ezio reached a hand out to Silvio, and grasping it firmly pulled the man closer. With him close, Ezio lay a kiss on Silvio's lips. It was gentle, but Silvio did not pull away, but, rather, the soft flesh curved into a smile against Ezio's lips. "I hope you find happiness, my friend, Silvio."

The cool air of the approaching morning caused Ezio to shiver as he entered into the alley behind the Bordello. Still his anger led him on. Clenching his fists, he paced toward to his target. He approached unseen, unheard, and removed the man's feet from the ground, catapulting his mass into the air and hurling him against the stone wall as his fists began their assault. They desperately beat the man, the aggression Ezio had stored all evening finding its escape. With each punch, he felt the snapping of tendons and the cracking of bones as flecks of blood splashed back onto his face and clothes. The man made no resistance, but howled into the dark; raping the silence. His body fell limp to the ground but, Ezio, still enraged, took hold of the man's neck and dragged him up. He pointed the man's face to Silvio's darkened window, and shoving the weakened body forward hissed, "He is not unnatural!" Ezio threw the man to his feet and delivered one final blow: he pulled his leg back and kicked out with such force between the man's legs that he sent him spiralling backwards. Another shriek went out into the night and the man collapsed, his head connecting with a thud to the ground. Ezio looked down at the crumpled mass of flesh, fatigue setting in, and as he stepped over the body and directed his feet back out into the street, he failed to notice the face which appeared at the window overlooking the alley or the gratitude that lay in the eyes of the beholder.

Leonardo was awakened by a pounding on his workshop door. He rose in a flash and made towards the outer room, but then stayed his paces. The pounding was so intense it could only mean one thing... he slunk back to bed and put his head under the covers. It was the guards, come to take him away for crimes against morality; crimes against nature. Tears began to well in his eyes. He had committed no crimes against his nature.

Ezio fists continued their poundings and with each contact with the heavy wooden door they became louder and louder. With no response, Ezio took a clumsy step back into the street, his eyes focusing on a window on the second floor. "Leonardo!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face, mixing with blood which was not his own. "Leonardo!" His voice tore through the still night; in his mind the moon and the stars and the sun fell to the streets of Florence and Ezio stamped on each in turn. He called one last time and halfway through the name – which sent his body into a rage – the door was thrown open. Not a word was said, but a hand beckoned him inside. The place was dark; the only light was provided by a dwindling candle. Ezio tore into the workshop, as the door slammed behind him, and he found his body pinned to the wall.

"Ezio! Why are you here? Why -"

"I must leave. I must go – because of you! Because of what they say about you..."

Leonardo felt his strength drain, his grip on Ezio failed. He stumbled backwards like a wounded animal, terror freezing his body, and he felt the candle light expose every inch of him. He wanted to hide that part of himself. But he could not escape those eyes: he trusted those eyes to judge – better than he trusted his own. He felt naked but standing before this man he felt no fear. There was a glimmer of hope.

"Ezio, why are you here?"

Ezio's eyes fell to the floor, and for a moment, Leonardo recognised a flash of weakness, but it was gone as soon it was there, and he felt his stomach drop to the floor. He didn't dare to breathe before the judgement was cast.

"Ezio..."

"I'm not here to judge you Leonardo, I have no judgements to make..." Ezio walked towards Leonardo, bringing his body into the candlelight. He took the artist's face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "I needed to say goodbye; I don't want to leave, but they tell me I have to, because of what you are... because of what my being around you may lead to."

Leonardo felt tears well in his eyes which he could not explain as much as he could not hide. "Giovanni told you to leave, because of me?"

Ezio did not relinquish his grasp, but Leonardo wished he would. He felt exposed, and foolish, standing before this man considering the thoughts he had had mere minutes before. He was barely dressed; a loose cotton shirt and unbuttoned breeches forming the only shield between his aching body and this beautiful young man.

"Ezio I am so sorry..."

"For what Leonardo!" he threw the man from him, hurtling Leonardo backwards into the darkness. Leonardo stumbled, and from his new position he saw for the first time the tears and the blood which covered Ezio's face. He saw his knuckles, black and bloody, cut and aching. Yet still he saw no judgement. "I am sick of these apologies; I hated hearing them from Silvio and I do not want to hear them from you." Ezio moved hurriedly towards Leonardo but collapsed into his chest, his body finally giving out from fatigue. Leonardo managed to manoeuvre him into a chair by the fireplace where he left him, his eyes always remaining fixed on those eyes while he lit more candles; Ezio never dropped his gaze.

"What did you do to Silvio?"

Ezio forced himself up from the chair, but his wearied body failed and he collapsed back down. "I have done nothing to Silvio. I am not like those other men...Why would I do such a thing to Silvio? Why would I do anything to Silvio?" His voice was harsh and challenging.

Leonardo kept his eyes on the young man and could see the confusion within his eyes. A small contented smiled played upon Leonardo's lips: Ezio defied the reason of all others; defied the reason of his family and those he would call friends. Leonardo watched as the young man adjusted himself in the chair, his fists pushing down as he hoisted his body up, the blood still trickling from the wounds on his hands. There was a brief wince of pain in Ezio's face, but the young man uttered no sound. Now, Leonardo was not the only one exposed. Ezio sat before him, drunk and exhausted, and bleeding. Leonardo's heart flushed at the thought he may be bleeding for him.

"Ezio, let me get you some food, and let me see to your wounds. You are bleeding..."

"I'm fine Leonardo, I'm fine."

"You're not." Leonardo moved back towards Ezio and took his hands in his, turning them over to examine the knuckles. Just touching Ezio's hands was like some guilty pleasure realised, but the sight of the damage stayed his passion. Ezio's hands were raw; the blood was seeping out and the bruises were adopting their greatest shade of purple. Accepting the inevitable empty feeling in his stomach which would come from dropping Ezio's touch, Leonardo moved back to the kitchen where he procured a bowl of water. He returned to Ezio. Lifting his hands to the thin cotton nightshirt we wore, he ripped the material into strips, exposing more of his flesh as he did so. Concentrated as he was on caring for Ezio's wounds he missed the widening of the young man's eyes as he removed the material covering his body. Slowly, Leonardo dipped the ripped fabric into the water and brought the dripping fragments to Ezio's hands. As he swept the material gently across Ezio's wounds he recognised the likeness of those hands to... but he pushed those thoughts from his mind. "You won't tell me what happened; you are stubborn I know, like the rest of your family, but let me deal with these wounds." He continued wiping away the blood, never feeling a flinch as the soothing water flooded into Ezio's wounds. "Let me make you some food afterwards..." He continued to wipe away the dried blood. "... I... I... I don't..."

"I don't want to leave." Ezio said, taking the words from Leonardo and allowing the artist to breathe again. Leonardo stopped his ministrations. Standing and removing the bowl of water, he walked back to the kitchen and removed his now trashed shirt.

"Take off your shirt." Leonardo demanded, not daring to look up. "You're covered in blood. Take it off, I have something you can wear... and I'll make you something to eat."

His demand was met with only silence, and finally he had to turn around; as he did so he saw Ezio watching him, not having made a move. Ezio raised his eyes to meet those of the artist, and Leonardo saw the young man smirk. "Remove it?" The voice was challenging, but not cruel.

"It's covered in blood Ezio," Leonardo flushed, "Take it off; I will get you something else to wear."

Ezio leant forward in the chair and caught sight of the glass of wine which Leonardo had disregarded hours earlier. He brought it to his lips and started to drink. Downing the glass in one, Ezio stood and walked to the small kitchen area of the workshop. Standing immediately before Leonardo, he looked straight into the other man's eyes. He said nothing, but did not drop Leonardo's gaze, and refused to let the artist drop his, as he slowly brought his bloody hands to the catches on his shirt. Gently, he undid the catches and brought it, now open, back to his shoulders. Leonardo barely dared to look, and he could not allow himself to leave the hold of Ezio's eyes. As Ezio slipped the shirt down over his shoulders and arms and tossed it to the artist, Leonardo had to look. He couldn't stop himself. His eyes fell from Ezio's gaze and traced down the young man's strong chest. He saw the muscles; the short dark hairs, and he saw those hard nipples... Once again he couldn't breathe. He caught the shirt and brought it close to him. He could smell Ezio's sweat upon it, but he was fully aware the young man was watching him.

"I'll get you another..."

Leonardo left the room and went to his drawers. Searching through them, he found an old shirt he hadn't worn in years and wouldn't miss. He pushed aside the excitement he felt at the idea Ezio may soon be wearing something of his. Walking back out into the main workshop, he threw the shirt at the young man. This time he didn't bother to avert his gaze as the young man strained to catch the item. Leonardo watched Ezio's abs tighten and his arms clench as he strained to catch the garment. Having caught the item, Ezio turned to him.

"Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing this?"

Leonardo caught his breath in time to reply, "Of course not, I'll get the other one back to you soon... let me fix you something to eat."

Leonardo forced himself to walk back past the still-undressed Ezio towards the kitchen. Searching this small room he located some tomatoes and onions, and some slightly stale bread. Slicing the items together, he threw them into a large pot with some olive oil and wine, and lit the kindling in his wood-burning oven. He could barely keep his mind on the task in hand, so aware was he of Ezio's eyes following his every movement. Giving up, finally, he threw the pot of meagre fare into the barely-lit fire and turned around to face the young man. Ezio had yet to put on the shirt Leonardo had given him, and much to his surprise, and delight, he found himself staring genuinely unintentionally at Ezio's chest. There was definition to his body created from pure athleticism alone, and despite the threats hanging over him for wanting this sin, Leonardo couldn't tear his eyes away. Ezio Auditore was here, in his home, half-naked and exhausted, drunk and bleeding, with nowhere to sleep… but his bed… his manhood sprung to life at the very thought. Why on earth did he give him that damn shirt?

Ezio now pulled it on and Leonardo couldn't help, but feel sorrowful. But he had seen enough. Returning to the kitchen in a bid to hide the excitement which threatened soon to become noticeable through his loosely-fitting breeches, Leonardo attempted to regain his composure.

"I am sorry Leonardo," Ezio purred, fastening the shirt onto his body; it pulled across his chest exposing every muscle as the fabric strained to contain his strength. "I shouldn't have come here tonight; I shouldn't have brought all this down on you… I… it's just that…"

Leonardo waited patiently; he could see the young man struggling to find the words, but he wanted to hear what Ezio had to say. And he wanted to keep him here longer. He needed Ezio to be with him tonight. He still didn't understand why the man was here, but somehow he felt safer being around him, and he couldn't deny the excitement sparking through his body… excitement when for months he had felt nothing but angst and terror, and maybe even hatred, for what he was.

"… It's just that… I don't want to leave… and I don't see why I should. I want to be here in Florence… where I can see you."

Leonardo stopped breathing entirely at that. "You shouldn't say things like that Ezio… it's dangerous…" He failed entirely to hide the sorrow in his eyes, but before he knew it Ezio was upon him, joining him in the kitchen.

"I can say what I like Leonardo…" He took the artist's face in his hands once again and brought them close together. Leonardo could feel the younger man's warm breath on his lips, and he was grateful for the strong arms as he melted into the flagstone floor. "… I'm dangerous too."

'And with those words Ezio leaned into Leonardo and kissed him. The artist felt the young man's tongue dart inside his mouth, never fearful, as he explored every inch of him, imploring with his taste and breath for Leonardo to expose himself before him. Standing, weakened before the young man, Leonardo fought back, uncertain and confused, but desperate for this taste and this touch. Finding his strength finally, he reached his hands into Ezio's hair and tore out the ribbon imprisoning it. The long, thick strands fell amongst his fingers and Leonardo rutted against the young man. Ezio never flinched; never made to move away. Instead he brought his hands around Leonardo's body, tracing down the small of the artist's back and bringing them to rest on his tight arse. Before Leonardo could question what was happening, Ezio had lifted him bodily, hands still securely in position and pushed him onto the kitchen table. Leonardo wanted to hide his excitement, but unlike his other Auditore lover, Ezio moved one hand straight to his crotch. As Ezio explored, still raping his mouth with his tongue, he kept one hand firmly on Leonardo's arse massaging it as his other rubbed at the artist's now-exposed pleasure. Leonardo rose up to meet his every touch, but there was no need. Ezio knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it… take it from him… fuck him right there and then on this damn table like there would never be another dawn…'

"Leonardo… do you think I could eat soon? I need to be gone before dawn… I still have to leave you."

And as Leonardo turned away to fetch Ezio his food, he shed another tear over another Auditore brother.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: All characters are owned by Ubisoft: you probably knew that already. Us poor little penguins don't want to be sued, but we do want to keep playing. It's a compliment really...

Some sexual content so as ever if your mama taught you well don't read!

For those of you who didn't always pay attention in Bible class, in this chapter Leonardo has to finally face the two difficult truths that he has been wrestling with. Ezio is leaving him, and his 'crimes' are about to seek out their retribution. The question is, will Ezio prove to be just another Auditore son or will he show himself to be stronger than Leonardo's previous lover? Only time will tell, but remember, we're only on the seventh hole, and games of golf must always end in the clubhouse. Fish all round!

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><p>Ezio walked towards the gates of Florence, approaching his exile with slow, heavy footsteps. Sunlight was beginning to break through the clouds, lighting his way. His head felt heavy and there was a pain in the pit of his stomach which he didn't dare to name, despite knowing why it was there. The streets of the city were quiet still, though they wouldn't be for long. Soon merchants and bankers, artists and craftsmen, prostitutes and thieves would come out to join the guards for another day of noise and laughter, excitement and pain. Pain. Ezio could barely breathe. He didn't dare to. Thoughts nagged in his head; the air seemed to hang heavy around him and nothing felt right with the day. And his mind: he could focus on nothing; nothing but the thud of his feet on the ground and the fantasy images which fought for his attention. He passed yet more guards, never daring to look back, as he continued on his slow and sorrowful journey. Thoughts of Leonardo swam across his brain, making the pain in his stomach worse, and never better. He passed his own home, but didn't go in. He didn't want to say goodbye to any of them. His anger flushed looking at the still-closed shutters. In those rooms his family slept peacefully, fully aware that he was to leave Florence today, but his anger was directed more at himself than at his family. Why was he doing this? Why was he leaving when he didn't want to? Why was he leaving when someone needed him? He saw Leonardo's face flash before his eyes before he could stop the image, before he could close his eyes and shake his head and try to push the thoughts to the back of his mind.<p>

Leonardo had stood to clear away his plates, and despite saying for the hundredth time that he had to leave, Ezio had failed to stand and leave his chair. He hadn't even been to tear his eyes from the other man. Leonardo had gone quiet on him when he had asked for some food, but he had sat beside Ezio nonetheless, not speaking, not even looking at him. Ezio had swallowed the food, thinking it to be the finest he had ever tasted, but all the while he had kept his eyes firmly on the artist. He couldn't tear them away. He had tried to hide his fascination, and with Leonardo's eyes always examining the floor or the table or his own fingers, it hadn't been hard to imagine that he was succeeding. Leonardo appeared to have forgotten his discarded, torn shirt, lost as he seemed to his thoughts. Ezio had been grateful for his friend's forgetfulness. Scooping bread and warm tomatoes into his mouth he had traced the muscles of the artist's body with his eyes. Leonardo was taller than he had realised; his body long and lean. His skin was pale, but he was defined. Ezio had realised in those moments, when he stared and tried to work out the definition of his chest, that he knew nothing really of Leonardo. Nothing of his hobbies, or of his past… he knew nothing, but the name of the crime of which he had been accused. "Leonardo?"

Leonardo had not appeared to hear him as he collected the dirty plates that cluttered the table. He had dropped them on the side and turned his body back towards the young man; as he did so Ezio watched as one of Leonardo's hands moved down his frame and came to rest at the waistband of his breeches. A thumb had slipped inside the breeches and hooked around the thin material Leonardo tapped out a pattern against his leg. His other hand had lingered at that toned chest and Ezio's had felt his eyes widen as the fingers spread out and massaged at the taut skin below. One of the fingers brushed the pale flesh of his nipple and, in that moment, Ezio could think of nothing but closing the gap between them and feeling Leonardo's skin; feeling those nipples grow hard underneath his own fingers. Leonardo had lifted his head then and met the young man's gaze, his eyes seeming to understand the thoughts that went through the other's mind, and, although, they did not seem to protest, Ezio recognised a reluctance there.

Ezio had shifted in the chair, a frown creasing his face, but as he made to move from the chair, his body had seized: it was as if each artery and vein had stopped and his body had turned to stone. A cold sculpture, he could not recall how long he had remained poised above the chair as his mind raced, searching for reasons to delay his departure; for reasons not to leave Leonardo. He had not want to go, could not go: the idea jarred against every ounce and fibre of his being. But his lips too, like the rest of his body, had failed him. His eyes found the floor: he could think of no excuses and his wishes fell to silence. A burning shame had torn through Ezio's body; gnawing away at his soul, and heat had built and pushed through his aching body; his vision became blurred as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Mustering every grain of strength left within him, Ezio had thrown himself from the chair, knocking it to the ground, and spun away from the artist who was all the while continuing his silent vigil from the other side of the room. "I…" Ezio had chocked, his voice catching in his throat. He had struggled to hold onto whatever shreds of composure he had left; but the anguish that wrestled within him proved stronger, and he had to fight violently for each breath. "I…I have to go…I have to go now."

Leonardo moved towards him, but made no sound. His eyes never once strayed from Ezio's frame.

Ezio recalled stumbling to the door; he couldn't be sure if he had been moving quickly or slowly. All he knew was that he had reached it before he wanted to, and with little grace. His hands, working out-with his control had flung open that old latch on that heavy door. The cold dawn air tumbled into the workshop, and the flames of the remaining candles had flickered at the disturbance. Ezio could remember turning on the spot to face the room and the man he longed not to leave. He could think of no words. To explain his feelings would have taken him an age. Leonardo had just looked at him, breaking Ezio's heart with eyes which were filled with sorrow, but he had seemed to be containing his emotions. Ezio feared that if he lingered longer he would not prove to be so strong. Leonardo remained frozen on the spot, waiting for Ezio to leave, but Ezio had failed once again to leave. The need to hear Leonardo's voice one more time had stayed his feet.

"This isn't a goodbye Leonardo, I will be back soon enough, and all this will have blown over…" Leonardo had interrupted him before he could finish his thought. There was anger in that soft, eloquent voice.

"I may not be here when you return Ezio, but I pray I will see you again… before… before the end,"

"Don't talk that way Leonardo," Ezio had groped to catch his stomach as it plummeted to the floor at the thought of the possible punishments which awaited this beautiful man. "I will be back… I will come back for you, and I will…I will protect you."

Leonardo's eyes had dropped once again to the floor, and he had shrugged his shoulders to dismiss Ezio's words.

"No Leonardo listen to me…" The desire to walk back into that room, to Leonardo and take his body into his arms had been overwhelming; remained overwhelming. Ezio had never been able to resist temptation, but in the end it was that knowledge of himself that had stopped him. He had to leave, at his father's command, and if he had walked back into that room Ezio knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that he would never have been able to walk away from Leonardo again. "… I swear to you that I will protect you. I can protect you…" Ezio's feet led carried him out into the street, but still he had turned back to face the barely distinguishable Leonardo in his self-imposed darkness. "… I will protect you. I won't say goodbye." And as was forcing his feet to walk away he stole the briefest of moments to look back, unable to locate his friend, but he smiled and winked into that darkness regardless, before he was compelled to turn onto his sorrowful way.

In the darkness, and filled with cold and loneliness once again, Leonardo couldn't help but match Ezio's flashing smile. Tears had spilled from his eyes and he had stood, his body racking with sorrow, until he could hear the footsteps no more.

Ezio shook himself from his reverie, and found himself passing down the broad streets which led to the gates of Florence. He was mere minutes away now, and he tasted the tears on his lips before he realised he was crying.

A part of him remained in that place still, in that small workshop, with him…with Leonardo…

'"Leonardo," Ezio whispered as he approached the artist, who leaned against the mantle of the fireplace, his body bathed in the light of the fire. The artist moved slightly, and Ezio's eyes poured over the bare chest that was presented to him. It was beautifully formed: the muscles invited him and Ezio could not resist. That day at the bordello he had been curious, but now his body ached for this love; a love that was still mysterious to him, but a love that he longed to taste. He was afraid, but he had to know He went to Leonardo and wrapped his powerful arms around the frame of the artist, dipping his head down to that chest that commanded his attention. Ezio's lips met with that hot flesh as he pressed a first, confident kiss to it. Leonardo let out a moan. Ezio's lips did not falter: they traced up that chest until they found Leonardo's nipples. Ezio's lips curved into a smile as he felt Leonardo's body jolt forward. Slipping his tongue out he circled the hardened, sensitive flesh, as his hands moved across Leonardo's back, exploring every inch of skin they could find. His hands darted down, slipping into the back of Leonardo's breeches until he reached the man's arse. Every doubt, every anxiety was expelled. Ezio knew what he wanted and he would have it, take it and enjoy it. Ezio had been in this position before, but never with a man. He had never held a lover who was equal in strength to him, and he had never before heard any person elicit such noises just from the actions of his tongue. The noises drove him on, as Leonardo turned fully into him, placing his hands into his hair and ripping out the ribbon which formed its restraint. Ezio continued lower, he moved away from the nipples, provoking yet more groans from Leonardo. The artist started to shove his head down, fingers still entwined in his hair as he moaned louder. Ezio knew where he was being directed to, and although he did not know entirely what he was to do when he got there, he was utterly disinclined to decline the direction. Leonardo rutted into Ezio who desperately moved down his body, his tongue licking and tracing a path down through the soft hairs until he met with the resistance of Leonardo's breeches. Ezio brought his hands up to wrestle with the offending clothing. He tugged at the strong leather laces, eager to unleash the treasure hidden within, and as he did so his hands brushed Leonardo's hard and throbbing erection. Ezio's knees buckled, and he dropped down before Leonardo. The artist moved his hands down to join those already at work, and the breeches fell away leaving Leonardo's engorged penis before Ezio. Ezio's hands slid up Leonardo's thighs, and came to rest on the man's hips. He held tight, his fingers sinking into the pale skin. He became nervous. A part of him wanted to shrink away, and yet a sudden pounding in his groin drove him on. He needed to discover this, wanted to know this love: he wanted to love Leonardo: to taste and enjoy every bit of the artist. Ezio moved his hands to Leonardo's manhood, and as he took hold of it a fire ignited in his body, silencing all doubts, spurring him on. He started to move his hand up and down in slow deliberate movements, and Leonardo let out long, breathy moans that pushed Ezio on. He moved closer to the man, and could feel the heat of Leonardo's flesh against his own skin; dipping his head down, Ezio opened his lips ready to take the artist's penis into his mouth. His lips brushed the throbbing head, but as Ezio made to move further, Leonardo took hold of his shoulders, and bent to meet Ezio's eager lips. And as their lips locked, Leonardo pushed Ezio back. Feeling the artist's body on top of his own, Ezio tumbled backwards, and his head hit the stone floor -'

Ezio saw stars. He watched his body slowly and heavily sprawl on the ground, first his arse and back, then his strong shoulders, and finally his head. His bent legs collapsed also, his knees crashing into each other before hitting the ground. Ezio groaned. The back of his head ached and he stared at the bright, blue early morning sky as he struggled to pull thoughts from the chaotic shambles that was his body. Gradually, he began to recognise his surroundings. There was a fountain to his left, and to his right more market stalls. As he gingerly lifted his pounding head from the cold, harsh ground, his nostrils discovered the bitter stench of stables and his eyes fell on the gates of Florence. Stars still danced in the corners of his eyes, dancing and flickering separately in bright hues of gold and scarlet before becoming one, ending his vision completely and returning it to darkness. He shook his head quickly, and immediately regretted the action. From somewhere out-with his haze he heard a voice shouting, but shouting quietly. Was that an apology? He didn't recognise the voice… Ezio slumped back to the ground, closing his eyes and luxuriating in the pain thumping throughout his body. He lay back and watched the colours swim across the midnight sky, enjoying their transitions and the shifting of their shapes. Gradually, they changed from gold and ruby and magenta to sapphire; a deep, ocean blue sapphire, and Ezio saw Leonardo's eyes. His beautiful eyes; deep and dancing and laughing, his features slowly emerging out of the darkness to smile down upon him. Leonardo was before him, Leonardo was… Leonardo!

Ezio sprung to his feet, ignoring the pain pulsating in his limbs, and ignoring his heavy head. He spun on the spot, turning his back on the gates of Florence and began moving, darting off down the street in pursuit of the guard who had sent him spinning out of his fantasy and crashing back into cold, harsh reality. They were going to Leonardo's workshop, and he had to get there before the guards. As he raced through the streets he had achingly walked down minutes before, he lost sight of those running before him. He quickened his pace, his vision remaining blurred, and pounding out his terror as he sprinted at break-neck speed to that place he had been so reluctant to leave. Ezio tore up the streets of Florence, hurtling round corners and crashing into walls, buildings, stalls: anything which stood in the path of him reaching his Leonardo. And suddenly there he was, in the workshop. He slammed into the table he had eaten at hours before. It was only then that he allowed himself to think. He hadn't had to open the door to enter this place. Turning, he saw it hanging, hinges raped and broken, and turning back to the room he saw nothing but destruction. Furniture was upturned. The chair he had sat in, desperate not to have to leave and desperate to be able to hold Leonardo upon was thrown almost into the now-dying fire. Plates were smashed, drawers lay upended on the ground and all manner of clothes and paints and brushes and tools and canvases and bottles and papers and foods decorated the floor around them. Had he been able to catch his breath Ezio knew he would still have stopped breathing. Leonardo was gone, and he didn't have to call out his name to know it. He raced back to the street, but he knew it was futile. The guards were gone with his Leonardo and they wouldn't be coming back. Slowly, Ezio wandered through the workshop, touching the trashed belongings of his friend as he went. He wanted to beat himself. If he had found anything suitable he didn't doubt that he would have. He had known he shouldn't leave. He hadn't wanted to leave. And yet he had done so and this was the result. Coming across some papers, Ezio stooped to pick them up. He couldn't stand to see Leonardo's work so abused, and he needed to touch something of the artist. Something more than the shirt he wore. Placing them upon a table and turning to leave, determined to do something of some use to Leonardo given how much he had already failed him, Ezio caught a glimpse of a familiar ring upon a charcoal-sketched hand. Was that his ring? He moved the top papers, tossing them aside with as little care as the guards had shown minutes before. And there he saw it: a sketch of his hand. And beneath that a sketch of a young man, naked. The body was taut and muscular, almost overly so; the stomach had been lovingly drawn and the chest carefully defined, and there above was a mirror for Ezio's eyes. He stared down into his charcoal self. Leonardo had drawn him; had sketched him naked with strong muscles and agonisingly erect manhood, and he had sketched his face perfectly, as though he had spent hours staring at him, memorising every detail. Now, Ezio's non-existent breath did stop. He held onto the sketch as though it was the only safety net between himself and a fate he dared not to contemplate. Nothing raced through his mind, but one name, and then finally an idea. An understanding. A realisation that he should not have doubted himself. Should not have doubted Leonardo. He should have moved towards Leonardo and taken him in his arms on any one of the occasion he had longed to do so, and if he had, he would have brought pleasure to both of them. And more importantly, as reality slowly closed back in on him, he would have been here when the guards came for Leonardo.


End file.
